Day 283: Sunshine

Daisy.jpeg

Shelter in Place, San Francisco, December 31, 2020

On the eve of the new year we should be experiencing rain. Lots of it. This is the time when our water supply needs to be replenished from deep snow in the mountains to the east, and when our garden needs to drink sufficient quantities to flourish in the year to come. Soaking rain is what we need. Bone-chilling dark days. Yet I cannot be sorry for the sunshine we are experiencing and for the optimistic African daisies that sparkle in the light. This is their best time of year, when the rest of the garden is mostly dormant, hunkered down for better days. The daisies burst on the scene when we are (usually) stuck inside.

What should we make of this spate of sunshine? Should we worry that the drought is getting worse? Maybe. But today I’m going to celebrate the end of 2020, thank goodness, and enjoy the sun-kissed daisies that have arrived.

Happy new year, my friends.

Day 279: Year in Review

sidewalk.jpeg

Shelter in Place, San Francisco, December 27, 2020

This is the week when the media, the critics, and the pundits summarize the year: the best, the worst, the highs, the lows, the most bizarre. For me, a review of 2020 feels like a foggy, slow-motion dream of barely skirted disasters: the virus, of course, racial reckoning, the fires, the growing drought, the near demise of the democracy I’ve always taken for granted — apocalyptic threats that swirled around my cozy, sequestered life but never quite came through my door. I know how lucky I am.

Inside, there were smaller pleasures to be had: a deeper, albeit remote connection with my siblings, friends, and kids; new hips implanted in-between the virus spikes; pure awe and gratitude for the dedication of the journalism, medical and science professions; some remarkable performances that heralded the survival and the healing power of the arts; an affirmation and strengthening of the bond with the man I share this house and life with; a garden, of course, and a photo project that started as a whim and has grown into a lifeline.

To have the strength to take a walk around the block and to find this little bit of artistry chalked outside a neighbor’s house are miracles in themselves, and the drawing on the sidewalk pretty much sums up my year.